When Pallas saw the piece her pupils wrought,

She stood long wond'ring at the lovely draught;

And, Flora, now (she cry'd) no more display

Thy flow'rs, the trifling beauties of a day:

For see! how these with life immortal bloom,

And spread and flourish for an age to come!

In what unguarded hour did I impart

To these fair virgins all my darling art?

In all my wit I saw these rivals shine,

But this one art I thought was always mine: 

Yet lo! I yield; their mistress now no more,

But proud to learn from these I taught before.

For look, what vegetable sense is here!

How warm with life these blushing leaves appear!

What temper'd splendours o'er the piece are laid!

Shade steals on light, and light dies into shade.

Thro' heav'n's gay bow less various beauties run,

And far less bright, tho' painted by the sun.

See in each blooming flow'r what spirit glows!

What vivid colours flush the op'ning rose!

In some few hours thy lilly disappears;

But this shall flourish thro' a length of years,

See unfelt winters pass successive by,

And scorn a mean dependance on the sky.

And Oh! may Britain, by my counsels sway'd,

But live and flourish, 'till these flow'rs shall fade!

Then go, fond Flora, go, the palm resign

To works more fair and durable than thine:

For I, e'en I, in justice yield the crown

To works so far superior to my own.